


Role Model

by kooili



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Weekly Berena Fix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooili/pseuds/kooili
Summary: Bernie Wolfe pushing swings in suburbia? *gasp!*





	Role Model

The sound of giggles and squeals cuts through the crisp morning sunshine. The playground is well equipped - a slide, two seesaws, a set of climbing frames and a brightly coloured roundabout spinning lazily in the breeze. Serena can’t help herself and pushes on one of the metal bars that drifts towards her as she walks past, propelling the contraption round, making it squeak noisily as it gathers speed.

“Higher, higher!”

The voice, high and excited, makes her turn, drawing her attention back towards the only occupied corner of the park. She is only ten, maybe twelve steps away from the swings, but pauses instead of completing her journey, taking a moment to relish the sight before her.

Her two favourite girls.

It never fails to take her breath away, this sight of her wife, almost silhouetted by the blazing sunshine, wrapped up in her favourite coat, scarf and the rainbow striped beanie Serena had presented her with after a brief obsession with knitting months ago. Bernie seems oblivious to her presence, completely engrossed in her task of pushing the swing firmly each time it returns to her.

“Push harder, Auntie Bunny. I want to go higher…”

Serena smiles. It may be Bernie doing the pushing but there is no question that it’s the tiny occupant in the seat who is calling the shots. Guinevere Elinor Haynes is barely an inch over two feet tall - she proudly announced this to her grand-aunties after Jason made the latest notch against the door frame a week ago - and firmly in charge.

“I think that’s high enough, Ginny. We don’t want to fall off the swing, do we?” Bernie cajoles, an attempt to regain the upper hand.

The young girl screws her face up and starts to protest in high pitch. Serena sees Bernie’s resolve soften immediately and decides that it’s the right time to step in.

“Auntie Bunny’s right, young lady.”

Ginny stops chattering and looks up towards her, Bernie following suit, stilling the swing as she does.

“Hi, Auntie S’rena!” The little girl shouts, her hand clutching firmly on the chains on either side of her, determined not to let go. “We’re playing swings!”

Serena shakes her head. “Why don’t we stop for a moment, Ginny and give Auntie Bunny a break?”

Ginny makes a grumbling noise but lets go of the chains, sliding off the seat. Bernie smiles and hovers until the little girl lands safely on the ground before walking and towards her wife. She finds herself pulled by the scarf into an embrace the moment she is within arms reach.

“What are you doing out here this early?” Serena murmurs, after kissing her lightly on the lips.

“She wanted to play so I thought that a trip to the playground would be a good idea. So that you could sleep in,” Bernie replies, stifling a yawn.

Serena squeezes her arm around Bernie’s waist and is about to thank her for her consideration when a sharp cry distracts the both of them. They turn simultaneously, eyes wide in horror at the sight of Guinevere sprawled in front of a swing. It’s obvious, from the way the seat is swaying haphazardly that a certain impatient someone was trying to climb back into the seat on her own.

“Oh sweetheart,” Serena cries, rushing over to pick the young girl up, gently brushing away the dirt mottling her arms. Bernie reaches for Ginny’s left leg, twisted awkwardly to one side and flexes it slowly, sighing in relief to see that nothing seems out of place.

“It hurts,” Ginny sobs, pointing to her skinned knee. The sniffles grows louder when she sees blood slowly oozing out from the broken skin and she clings on to Serena, burying her head into a sleeve. Bernie searches the pockets of her coat, muttering softly when they come up empty.

“I haven’t got a tissue so this’ll have to do,” she finally says, untying the scarf from round her neck.

Serena helps and pulls it away before winding it around the injured joint. “There, this will make it better until we get home and get it cleaned up.”

The sobs die down to the odd hiccough as the little girl wipes her tear-streaked face with a the back of her hand. Bernie stands up and bends over to pick her up but Ginny shakes her head.

“I can walk. I’m a big girl.”

Serena blinks back tears of pride at her grand niece’s resolve and clears her throat before speaking. “How about if Auntie Bunny and I take a hand each and we can all walk back to the house together?”

Her answer is a small gloved hand grasping firmly onto her, mirrorring the one holding on to Bernie. They walk slowly across the park and reach home in a matter of minutes. Bernie is off like a shot up the stairs to fetch the first aid kit from the cupboard in the bathroom while Serena settles Guinevere onto the sofa. She is almost done unwinding the scarf from the injured knee when Bernie returns, with a wad of plasters and dressings in one hand. “Here,” she says, handing Serena an antiseptic wipe before flicking through the assorted packages to find the most appropriate plaster.

Serena holds the knee still and dabs gently on the cut, soaking up the blood and brushing away stray bits of grit and dirt at the same time. The little girl winces and bites her lip, tears of pain rolling down her cheeks. “I know it hurts, sweetheart, but this will make it better soon.”

Bernie finally finds a satisfactory piece of plaster and tears into the packaging.

“Auntie Bunny?”

“Yes, darling?” she answers, positioning it carefully across the cut.

“Will this make a,” Ginny hesitates and thinks hard before saying the next word, “scar?”

The women exchange a look, the little confused. “Hopefully not,” Serena answers. “I’m sure it’ll be good as new as long as we keep it bandaged up until it heals.”

“Oh.” Ginny looks crestfallen and starts picking at the edge if the plaster.

“What’s wrong?” Bernie asks, gently stilling her little fingers. “Don’t you want your knee all better?”

Serena looks as perplexed as her wife when their young charge shakes her head vehemently. “I want to be like you,” she proclaims, folding her arms across her chest, chin jutting defiantly in Bernie’s direction.

Bernie shrugs when Serena raises an eyebrow and mouths a silent “what?” at her. Ginny looks between her grand aunties and huffs loudly at the confused looks on their faces “Auntie Bunny has a scar.” The young girl points to the spot on Bernie’s chest.

Her answer catches Bernie off guard. “Okay,” she ventures, slowly. “That’s because I got hurt and it didn’t get fixed until much later. You won’t have one on your knee if we keep the bandage on. That’ll be much better, won’t it?” Bernie barely stops herself from wincing at the white lie. All for the greater good, she tells herself, anything to keep tiny fingers from fiddling with the injured knee.

Serena leans up against Bernie’s side, her head tilted curiously, as they both watch and wait while the little girl does her best impression of an eye roll before she answers. “No, Auntie S’rena says you have one because you’re the bravest person in the world. I’m a big girl now and I want one too so I can be brave just like you.”


End file.
